Sometimes You don't Need Forgiveness
by Hekate1308
Summary: Mycroft feels guilty - he's just as much to blame as Moriarty for Sherlock's death, after all. And then, three years after his death, Sherlock texts him. Maybe now, their relationship can be repaired. Mycroft and Sherlock reunion, Post-Reichenbach


**Author's note: I always wanted to write a story about Mycroft and Sherlock... I adore Mycroft's character in the series and have always been a fan of him in the books. How can you not love someone so posh and threatening at the same time? And I have a little brother myself,so I know how an older sibling feels. **

**It's time for their reunion. Please review and tell me what you think – Mycroft's even harder to portray than Sherlock, and that's saying something.**

Many people, if they knew Mycroft Holmes and Sherlock Holmes were brothers, and if they knew of their rather difficult relationship, would probably assume that something – a big fight, a wrong word, one evening where they were supposed to help each other but didn't – came between them, and they would both be right and wrong.

Right because something went wrong in their relationship.

Wrong because it wasn't something big that destroyed the bond they'd shared as children. Rather, there were a lot of little things that eventually, together, turned their relationship into what it is now.

There was the time when Sherlock was three and Mycroft was ten and he told Mummy it had been Sherlock who' picked the roses from the garden because he wanted to see what the petals looked like under his little microscope, and he could tell Sherlock felt betrayed, though he probably didn't know the word yet.

Then, when Sherlock was five and he'd annoyed his older brother the whole ay because he wanted to play with him, and at twelve years of age, you shouldn't play childish games with your younger sibling anymore – at least that's what father told him – so he explained to Sherlock that pirates, at least the kind of pirates he wished to join, didn't really exist anymore, so he might as well forget all about this stupid little dream of his.

Come to think of it, it's the one thing Mycroft regrets more than anything else, because if there's one thing he has learned, aside from the fact that caring is never an advantage, it's that there's nothing that hurts quite the way a destroyed dream does.

When father left because Sherlock had told mummy about his affair – they were ten and seventeen – Mycroft was perhaps more angry than he should have been, even though, to his everlasting shame, he was a little proud that his brother had figure it out. He'd deduced the affair long before Sherlock did, but then, Sherlock was really just starting out and father had gone to a lot of trouble to hides his little indiscretion. But, still, Mycroft wishes Sherlock could be a little more considerate before spurting out his deductions – consideration being a skill his little brother has yet, at thirty-five, to master.

Nonetheless, their father leaving drove another small wedge between the brothers.

He thinks that the turning point, for Sherlock at least, was when he left for university and his brother refused to come out of his room to say goodbye. He didn't understand it at the time, since they were used to spending some time apart, as they were usually sent to different relatives in the holidays, and then there were different schools, of course, but now he knows that he was the one person Sherlock could talk to, felt comfortable talking to, and his leaving to live in London, without the possibility of Sherlock visiting him (he's still too little to travel alone, mummy would say, and I'm too busy to take him), Mycroft meeting new people, making friends...

Sherlock saw it as betrayal.

Mycroft saw it as unavoidable; his little had to learn how to take on the world on his own.

As it turned out, he couldn't.

Mycroft didn't really see much of Sherlock for the next few years – normally, when he came home for Christmas, his brother would be locked up in his room. He still hasn't forgiven himself that he never once thought something other than experiments could be going on in there.

Then, all of a sudden, Sherlock was sixteen and came down for dinner one night when Mycroft was visiting Mummy, and Mycroft took one look at him and saw what their mother was refusing to see.

Sherlock was taking drugs.

Not cocaine (not yet), and not for a long period of time, as far as Mycroft could tell, but he was taking them.

So Mycroft gave him a stern talk, because that's what – and that was the problem.

He acted like a parent, when Sherlock needed his older brother. Because, yes, older siblings might sometimes act like parents – but they'll always understand you better than they do. And Mycroft refused to try to understand why Sherlock would do something so stupid, and believed (the biggest mistake he's ever made in his life) that him telling his brother how stupid he was acting would be enough.

It wasn't.

As Mycroft found out six years later, when he went to Sherlock's flat in London to make him see that dropping out of university was a mistake, and found his brother high on cocaine, the puncture wounds in his arms clearly showing that this had been going on for some time.

Mycroft forced him into rehab, and swore he wouldn't see money until he was clean and found himself a job. Another action Sherlock never forgave him.

And, ever since then, they've only spoken to each other when Mycroft wanted to check Sherlock wasn't using or (later) when he forced him to take a case. Their relationship hasn't got any better, to state the obvious. Even though Mycroft – Mycroft never stopped caring, and all the history between them, he doesn't care about that, would happily forget it, if Sherlock would just reach out to him.

Only he doesn't, and he'd most likely flinch back if Mycroft ever tried.

But, now that he's clean, now that he's found Doctor Watson and Mrs. Hudson brings him tea and DI Lestrade keeps an eye on him on crime scenes – now, Sherlock seems to mellow a bit. He even smiles at Mycroft when he shows up, now and then, and doesn't seem to be angry about Irene Adler (and Mycroft had been so sure he'd lost him forever, then) – and, before he met Doctor Watson, he would never have called Mycroft to gain entrance into Baskerville. But now he does, and Mycroft is unbelievably happy about it.

And then Sherlock jumps, and nothing is important anymore.

Mycroft knows Moriarty forced him to do it, he saw the consulting criminal's body his people collected, after all, but that doesn't help him much. It was still his fault. He knew Moriarty was obsessed with Sherlock, and he let him go. He could have kept him, of course he could have. And he told Moriarty everything. Everything. Even about their father leaving, and the reason for it.

He could probably destroy Moriarty's web, if he wanted too, just for revenge. But – revenge won't help, because he's just as guilty as them. So he doesn't.

Of course, Mycroft still works as much as always. He still has Di Lestrade kidnapped – though now, he needs to know how Doctor Watson – no, John, it was "John" for Sherlock – is doing, because the doctor refuses to even look at him, and Mycroft can understand it. He still saves the government and the economy on a regular basis.

But there's suddenly a lot of time he formerly spent tracking down, protecting or looking after Sherlock, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He visits his grave, of course, but that doesn't take long. Most of the time, he just sits around drinking brandy. And thinking. And feeling guilty. And, surprisingly, scared.

Because Sherlock was the one thing that made Mycroft cling to what little humanity he had left, and he now fears that he really might become what Moriarty called him – the Ice Man. Devoid of all emotions.

So he accepts the guilt and the grief and works as much as he can.

For three long years.

And then – then, one day, right in the middle of a meeting with the Prime Minister (really, you would think by now politicians would learn that people get annoyed when you don't keep your promises) he gets a text from an unknown number.

It says "There are still pirates by Somalia, though, I heard."

And, just like that, he has to excuse himself, because he's pretty certain the Prime Minister wouldn't appreciate him bursting into relived tears in the middle of a meeting.

He knows Sherlock will find him when he chooses, so he takes the rest of the day off and goes to the cemetery.

Standing before the headstone and the wonderfully empty grave, he feels his brother's presence before he sees him. Then he hears his voice.

"How's John?"

Of course.

"Doing well, I am informed. He has a new girlfriend." And then, because he can still read Sherlock's mind and he knows it will annoy him, he ads "DI Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson are doing well, too."

"I know about Mrs. Hudson – I visited Baker Street earlier."

"So, what do you need?" Mycroft asks and finally turns around and is surprised at himself at how much he wants to hug the man standing in front of him, who's grown even thinner (note: must tell Mrs. Hudson to make him eat).

"I have taken care of Moriarty's web." So, that's why he stayed dead. Of course. Mycroft's getting slow.

"But I need your help tracking down the last and worst of them all – Colonel Sebastian Moran."

"Of course. I'll send you the information. The same number you texted me from, earlier?"

"Yes, please."

Just Sherlock saying please tells Mycroft his brother has changed. Naturally. You don't take down a criminal web without changing.

Then Sherlock turns and Mycroft doesn't want him to go, so he blurts out "Where are you staying?"

"There's an abandoned building in Baker Street."

"No, you are not." It's not a question, it's a statement. "You're staying with me."

Sherlock doesn't argue, which makes Mycroft worry even more.

He forces him to eat – he can cook, had to learn, because he never kept any stuff in his house – it wouldn't be safe, keeping as many secrets as Mycroft does – and then, when they are sitting in the living room, a fire crackling in the fireplace, just then, just once does he say "I'm sorry."

Sherlock answers "I know." Then they're silent again.

He helps Sherlock track down Moran, he helps him to return.

Then, a few weeks after that, when Sherlock has just started taking cases again, he texts him and invites him to 221B, and Mycroft panics because Sherlock asked him to come.

So the members of the Diogenes club see Mycroft Holmes actually jump out of his usual chair and rush down the stairs, and it takes all their willpower to stay silent at this miracle.

When he arrives, Sherlock has the tea ready, and his panic skyrockets.

Sherlock smirks "Sit down, brother dear, nothing's happened. I don't even need your help."

Mycroft swallows, calms his wildly beating heart, sits down and takes a sip of tea.

He looks around the flat. Sherlock answers the unspoken question. "John's moving back in next week. Apparently, his girlfriend left him because of me."

"Nothing changed, then" Mycroft replies, and Sherlock looks at him, and Mycroft's scared because he can't say what the look means.

"Yes. But that doesn't mind I don't want things to change." Sherlock draws a deep breath. "Nothing of this would have happened if we were still as close as we once were... So I'd like us to... try to be... brothers again. A clean slate. If you want, that is."

And Mycroft looks at him and suddenly, he's ridiculously, unbelievably, wonderfully happy and comprehends fully, for the first time, that Sherlock is really alive.

But he just says "Yes, I'd like that".

And that's it. It's not much, but drinking tea together without threats or insults flying around is a start.

And if John decides to visit Sherlock and to tell him he's actually moving back in tomorrow and almost faints at finding the brothers actually laughing together over a cup of tea, well –

Mycroft can't really help him. He's too happy to care.

**Author's note: This was difficult to write – I wanted to keep it in character, and much as I would love to see it, I don't think they'll hug.**

**I hope you enjoyed, and please review.**


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